


The Last Day (?)

by orphan_account



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon), The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: Barg N' Mart, Depression, Developing Friendships, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Ice Cream, Possibly Pre-Slash, Possibly Unrequited Love, Suicidal Thoughts, The Paddy Wagon, i don't know yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21861988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Squidward has a tough day. SpongeBob helps him through it.
Relationships: SpongeBob SquarePants & Squidward Tentacles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	The Last Day (?)

**Author's Note:**

> "If I could leave a mark on the monument of your heart  
> I just might lay myself down for a little more than I had the last day."
> 
> -Evanescence

One Sunday, Squidward’s life came to an end.

He woke up and somehow knew, in the pit of his stomach, that it would be the last day of his life. He thought about skipping work but then decided better of it. Sure, his job sucked and he hated every minute of it, but honestly how bad could one more shift be?

Squidward sighed and tried to walk around his infuriatingly cheerful coworker at the door. He beamed and laughed and twisted to block him every way he turned. It didn’t take long for Squidward to lose his cool.

“SpongeBob! Will you please get out of my way?!” He roughly shoved past the bubbly little sponge and knocked him to the floor. He scraped his knee pretty badly and a few splinters of wood lodged into his skin.

SpongeBob sniffled miserably. “OK, Squidward. If that’s what you want. I’ll go back to the grill now. If you hear something that sounds like abject, agonized weeping, please keep calm and carry on. Nothing out of the ordinary is going on.”

Squidward scowled at the little runt’s passive-aggressive monologue and went to stand behind the cash register. He rooted around in the cubby hole of the small boat’s bow for the latest issue of _House Fancy_. He wanted to spend his last day at least doing something he enjoyed, while he could, and Sundays were the slowest days at the Krusty Krab.

SpongeBob went into the kitchen. He noisily cleaned the grill and fryer and whimpered just loudly enough for Squidward to hear. He scoffed, rolled up two napkins and stuffed his ears. Let the little baby cry all he wanted, he wasn’t getting any sympathy from him, today of all days. And after today, he never would again.

The improvised ear plugs nearly did the job, but Squidward hummed as he flipped the pages of the magazine to drown out what little of SpongeBob’s diva antics he still heard. The little sissy gave up his shenanigans when he saw that they weren’t having their desired effect. 

Squidward didn’t speak to him again until a customer came in an hour later to order a Triple Krabby Supreme with coral bites on the side and a Diet Kelp to drink.

SpongeBob frowned sullenly as he passed the tray through the window. “Order up, Squidward.” “Uh, thanks.” Squidward felt a little sorry for what he had done, but not enough to say the word.

The rest of the work day passed in a tense, awkward silence that was only broken two more times. Once by another customer, and the other by Mr. Krabs, who decided to leave a little early ‘to check on me darlin’ daughter.’

It was Pearl’s last day of school before the winter holidays, and even though she was 16 years old, he seemed to think that she was incapable of being in their house by herself.

Squidward locked the doors at 6:00, a little earlier than usual. _Well,_ he thought, _the tighfisted old skinflint only pays me minimum wage anyway, even though I’ve worked here nearly 20 years. I’m saving him $14.50 by leaving a couple of hours early…_

He smiled with gleeful satisfaction when he thought that after he was gone, Krabs would have to expend a significant amount of time and money searching for a replacement cashier. Nobody in their right mind would put up with the nonsense he made his employees deal with, the hurdles he made them jump through.

“Ha, right. Like I’m one to talk.” Squidward didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until SpongeBob was standing in front of him, frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. “What do you mean, Squidward? Who are you talking to?”

“No one, I was just thinking out loud.” He sighed at a sudden realization. “I guess I’ll have to count the till and fill out a report before we can leave.” He rubbed the sides of his head. “I could use a drink right about now.”

SpongeBob grinned and made his way back toward the kitchen. “I’ll get it, Squidward! Do you want Dr. Kelp, Mountain Mariana, Diet Dr. Bubbles -”

“Actually, I want a drink with a little more zest, if you know what I mean.”

Judging from his puzzled frown, SpongeBob had no idea what he meant. “You know what, a Diet Dr. Bubbles sounds great. And if it’s not too much trouble, can you make me a side of coral bites, too? Plain, not seasoned. But don’t forget the ketchup.”

“Aye, aye, Squidward!” SpongeBob smiled and saluted him. He turned the grill on and went to work preparing what Squidward fully intended to be his last meal. He groaned and resisted the temptation to bang his head on the cash register.

It took him all of 10 minutes to count the contents of the register and compare it to the starting amount from the start of the shift. The drawer came up $0.50 short. Sometime during the day Squidward had squirreled away a couple of quarters to buy his final copy of _The Bikini Bottom Bugle_ from the newspaper rack on the way home.

He might as well get one last laugh at the haughty hypocrisies of the beloved bastion of backwardness that was his hometown.

When SpongeBob packaged Squidward’s snack and drink, he came out to the lobby to give it to him instead of passing it to him through the window. “Here ya go, Squidward. I thought you might be ready to go, so I went ahead and put your stuff in a to-go bag. Hmmm.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Now that I think about it, I’m pretty thirsty. Let me go get a Diet Mountain Mariana right quick before we go.”

“Sure. OK. Whatever.” Squidward sniffed and tapped his tentacled foot impatiently until SpongeBob came back out holding a cardboard drink tray. “Hey Squidward, give me your drink too. I’ll carry the drinks and you can carry the bag, OK?”

Squidward muttered a few nonsensical syllables and handed SpongeBob his drink cup. He looked down at his knee and felt his heart twinge when he saw the row of three grimy, smiley faced Band-Aids on his kneecap.

SpongeBob caught his eye and smiled. “Don’t worry, Squidward, I got the splinters out. It bled a little more than I thought it would, but I’ll be fine.”

He whistled and fell into step behind Squidward as he headed for the exit. He locked the door behind them and reached into his shirt pocket for the $0.50 he’d taken from the till. “Oh well, I was gonna buy a newspaper, but I guess I’ll call a cab. It’s too dark to see to walk back home.”

“OK.” SpongeBob stood beside him as he slipped the two quarters into the coin slot of the pay phone outside. He dialed the number for the local cab company. An automated robotic voice answered.

_“Thank you for calling. We are out of the office now, and will return tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM. Please call us back -”, ___

____

__

Squidward huffed and slammed the phone handle back in its cradle. “Great. That’s just great! I don’t suppose you have $0.50 so I can call a Tuber, do you?”

SpongeBob frowned and shook his head. “No, sorry Squidward. I don’t have any money.”

“Well, I guess the only thing to do is walk home, after all. Let’s stick to the path in the street lights as much as we can. Stay close to me.”

“OK.” SpongeBob held the drink tray with one hand and slipped the fingers of his free hand through Squidward’s. Squidward sharply exhaled an exaggerated sigh, but he let SpongeBob hold his hand. He abruptly decided he wasn’t hungry anymore and tossed the paper bag into the stainless steel public trash can on the corner.

SpongeBob’s brow furrowed quizzically. “I thought you were hungry.” He spoke plainly, without a hint of anger or judgment. Still, Squidward was at such a low point that he hated even the semblance of contradiction.

“You’re right, I was. I’m sorry for all your effort to go to waste, but I...I’ve changed my mind.” _What am I saying? I sound like an idiot._ There was so much more to it than that, but it was hard to put into words. He didn’t know how to tell SpongeBob, who for some inexplicable reason actually loved him, that after tonight he would never see him again.

 _Well,_ he mused. _I guess he’ll see me one last time as the casket’s closed on my cold, dead corpse._ The morbidity of the thought made Squidward shiver.

“Are you cold? You can wear my sweater, if you want it.” He let go of Squidward’s hand for a moment, set the drink tray on the sand, and began to take off the red merino wool sweater he’d bought at the mall just last week.

The kid was literally offering Squidward the shirt off his back. He cleared his throat and waved his hand dismissively. “No, no thanks, SpongeBob. I’m not too cold. I just felt a little chill, but it’s OK. It’s gone now.”

“If you say so.” SpongeBob picked the tray up and took Squidward’s hand again. The rest of the walk to their houses passed relatively quickly. There was virtually no traffic. They arrived at the pineapple and moai by 7:30.

“Well, goodnight Squidward. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hesitated as Squidward unlocked the front door, dragging his shoe through the sand. Squidward looked back at him expectantly. “I know you’re going to stand there and mope until I invite you in, so come on. We’ll finish our drinks, and then you have to go home. _Capisce_?”

“Um, sure.” SpongeBob smiled stupidly and pretended he understood. What Squidward didn’t know yet wouldn’t hurt him, he hoped. For all of his apparent naivety and simplemindedness, he was actually very perceptive.

He knew something was up, and he wasn't going to leave Squidward alone until he told him, one way or another. They sat at the table in the kitchen and sipped their sodas through straws. They sat silently until Squidward looked down at SpongeBob’s knee again and saw that the yellowed smiley faces were now decorated with small red blotches. SpongeBob’s cuts had reopened.

Squidward made a sound somewhere between a pained groan and a resigned whimper. He picked up their drink cups, carried them to the sink, and poured out what little remained. He washed his hands and dried them on a paper towel before turning back to look at SpongeBob, his arms hanging limply at his sides.  


“Come on, SpongeBob. Follow me to the bathroom. I need to change your bandages so you won’t get an infection. That is, assuming you don’t have one already.”

SpongeBob nodded and docilely followed Squidward into the bathroom. He sat on the blue carpeted toilet lid and stretched his leg out for Squidward’s inspection. He washed his hands in the sink and assembled a box of band-aids, a bag of cotton balls, and iodine on the counter.

He slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves and gingerly pulled the Band-Aids off. He nearly retched at the sight of the three red, swollen wounds weeping pus and blood. SpongeBob teared up when Squidward soaked a cotton ball in iodine and dabbed at the cuts. He scowled and SpongeBob hissed air between his teeth.

“Neptune, I hope it won’t leave a scar.” He snorted and fought back his own tears. He drenched another cotton ball and blotted at the bruised skin again, then threw them into the small wastebasket under the sink.

“The worst is over. I know it stings. I’m sorry, SpongeBob.”

“It’s OK, Squidward. It’s not like you meant to hurt me.”

Well, that was true. He’d just wanted the little wiseacre to get out of the way. Squidward put three fresh Band-Aids on SpongeBob’s knee. He peeled the gloves off and threw them in the trash. He washed his hands again and scowled when SpongeBob looked at him expectantly. “What is it?”

SpongeBob regarded him solemnly. “Anytime Mom or Grandma put Band-Aids on my injuries, they always kiss them afterward to make it feel better.”

“You have got to be joking.” Squidward rolled his eyes, knelt down and pressed his lips to SpongeBob’s knee. “Are you happy now?”

“Well, almost…” He giggled and playfully flicked Squidward’s nose. “After that, we sit at the kitchen table and eat ice cream. You didn’t eat your coral bites. You must be hungry.”

Yeah, OK, he had him there. Even if he were to try to deny it, the sudden loud rumbling of Squidward’s stomach would contradict him. “Fine, let’s go see what I’ve got in the freezer.”

As it turned out, he had two vanilla ice cream sandwiches. SpongeBob’s eyes shone as he ripped the paper off the sandwich. He licked each side of the outer chocolate shell before taking a slow, satisfied bite. He looked over at Squidward and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re not eating. Are you feeling OK?”

_OK? Am I feeling OK? What a question…_

Squidward ripped the paper off of his sandwich and took a small bite. The corners of his lips curved in a reluctant smile at SpongeBob’s expression of joyful expectation. “Don’t you love these? Aren’t they just the best things ever?”

“Yeah, they are pretty good. They’re the only sort of sugary dessert I’ll eat. I have to watch my figure, you know.”

But not for much longer. And really, not anymore, period.

“You know what, SpongeBob? I think I want some more of these ice cream sandwiches. Do you want to come with me to the store?”

He might as well have asked him if he lived in a pineapple under the sea. SpongeBob practically leaped up. He grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the moai. “Mr. Krabs is still letting you drive the Patty Wagon, right?”

“Yup.” Squidward reached into his shirt pocket for the keys. “The supermarket’s close enough to walk to, but we’ll take the wagon if you want.”

He picked SpongeBob up and put him into the seat. It was a little higher than Squidward would have liked. He made a mental note to tell Mr. Krabs as much, then shook his head at the futility of such thinking. If he wouldn’t be here much longer to drive the stupid thing, what would be the point?

He stepped up into the Patty Wagon and buckled his seatbelt. He stared pointedly until SpongeBob also fastened his seatbelt with a sheepish titter.

During the drive, SpongeBob chattered about his day, starting from when he woke up at 7:00 AM to when Squidward picked him up and put him into the Patty Wagon, as if he hadn’t been there. Squidward let him talk, staring straight ahead in a kind of fugue state until he pulled into the parking lot of the Barg N’ Mart.

His hands shook so badly that he dropped the keys when he pulled them out of the ignition. He took a deep, shuddering breath, laid his head on the dashboard, and burst into tears.

“I’m s-sorry, SpongeBob. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“Of course I know that. You’re a good person, Squidward.” SpongeBob patted his back. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

“How can you say that? I treat you like driftwood, SpongeBob. Or like a barnacle in the bottom of my shoe - if I wore shoes. That is, when I pay any attention to you at all. Why are you always so nice to me?”

SpongeBob patted his back again. 

He took Squidward’s hand and kissed the back of it.

“I guess I’m nice to you because that’s just how I am. I’m ‘buoyant’ and ‘childlike,’ the way you’re ‘sophisticated’ and ‘sarcastic.’ Other people may not, but I see you for who you are. I love you, Squidward.”

He spoke with such simple eloquence that Squidward’s eyes misted with more tears. He exhaled heavily and stepped out of the wagon. He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve as he walked around to the other side. 

He reached in to pick SpongeBob up. He held him for a moment, tucked in the crook of his arm like a package, and realized with a bleak, bittersweet resignation that he couldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t do it. He set SpongeBob down and took his hand.

“Alright, let’s get this over with so we can go back home. We’ll eat a couple more ice cream sandwiches, watch the news, and go to bed. We have to go to work early in the morning.”

So it was that Squidward’s old life came to an end, and something new began.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is yet another plotless SpongeBob drabble written with no other purpose than to indulge the author's sudden enraptured obsession with the SpongeBob musical. As such, the characters are forever entwined in the synapses of the author's brain as their anthropomorphic Broadway actors.


End file.
